Misconception
by NonFiction
Summary: There are a lot of things people don't know about us. And what they do know, or really, I should say, what they think they know, is way off base and misguided. It's actually kind of funny. And he and I usually have a good laugh about it.


Misconception

There are a lot of things people don't know about us. And what they do know, or really, I should say, what they think they know, is way off base and misguided. It's actually kind of funny. And he and I usually have a good laugh about it, especially when people are making assumptions off their false knowledge of us. So, for the record, this is me setting you straight. Let's see, where to start... There's actually so much to address I'm not sure... Smell. That's what we'll tackle. It's very important to me, after all.

I don't know why, honestly. People are always thinking I smell like lavender or lemon or flowers or fresh soil or all around earthy-goodness. Like I said, we laugh at this all the time. If anyone were to actually ask him, he'd tell a whole 'nother story. Hell, he tells me all the time, much to my...displeasure. Ask him and I know for a fact what he'll say. 'Smell? How do you think she smells? Look at her. She smells like a body that has too much sweat on it. It lingers on her clothes. And that healthy coating of earth? Yeah, that's dirt. Sweat and dirt. That's what she smells like.' Sounds offensive, doesn't it? But don't let him fool you. He loves it. When he buries his face in my neck and takes a deep, lingering inhale, even I think he's crazy. I know a must smell awful. But he can't get enough. Does that gross you out? I don't blame you... He's really weird sometimes.

And him. Don't get me started on him. I can't even count how many times I've heard that he probably smells like cinnamon or smoke or musky manliness. Hah. This once had me on the floor, seriously. He certainly _does_ have a smell. But manly? Yeah, that's like the last word in the entire world I would use to describe it. He smells like...soap, I guess. Yeah soap. Soap and scented bath oils. It's flowery, frilly, and way more feminine than everyone imagines. I can smell him coming a mile away, especially when he's getting out of one of his numerous baths. I swear, that man takes more baths than half of this damn country combined. But hey, what can I say? It's better than him smelling all nasty like I must. Ooh and when it's night, and I crawl into the sheets, the whole bed smells like him, whether he's there or not. That, I love. When he's up at all hours of the night buried to his nose in scrolls, at least his scent keeps me company.

Hmm... What else? Oh, I know, this is a good one. Despite what everyone seems to think, I have never, ever had the overwhelming, uncontrollable urge to run my hands over his face. I mean, it's not like I've never touched his face. It's just, 'ya know, I usually do the touching with my fist. Let me guess what you're thinking. How do I know what he looks like? The answer is simple. I don't. It's not that I don't care about it, it's just that I don't care enough. I will never actually know what he looks like, and that's fine by me. You 'wanna know why? Because unlike everyone else, I know what he _feels_ like. And trust me, I'd be willing to bet knowing that is infinitely better.

Since we're on the subject of touch, let me cover one more thing. Piggyback rides. I hate them. Hate them. Hate them. Hate them. This is another thing I will never understand why people assume I enjoy it. Hello? Feet, earth, can't feel, need I say more? So when he picks me up and throws me on his back or over his shoulder it's not a sign of affection. It's a form of torture. Don't let him play you. He knows it well. I hear what you all say. 'Aww look how cute they are together!' Give me a 'fuckin break. You wanna know what our relationship is based off of? Fighting. Not angry or spiteful fighting, mind you. We just enjoy tormenting each other way too much to play at lovey-dovey-kissy-kissy couple. And yeah, maybe we do love each other. But I'll tell you one thing, it isn't any kind of love any of you will ever experience. Sucker.

Sometimes it bugs me how all our friends assume we are just the perfect little item, like we were made for each other or something. I guess I can't really blame them. When they see him with his arms wrapped around me from behind, holding me tight and whispering sweet-nothings into my ear, what else are they supposed to think? But I'll let you in on a little secret. Those sweet-nothings? Those are threats and promises of what he's gonna do to me next time he's got me alone. Promises I gladly return and inwardly, pray to the damn spirits that he keeps. 'I'm going to burn that little ass of yours right off,' is one of the things he's most fond of telling me. At this, I can't help but laugh. My usual reply? 'You wouldn't dare. You'll lose your favorite plaything.'

This next one is something that he doesn't really know about. And if I find that he has somehow found out, I will break your legs in half like twigs, got it? Good. There is a _huge_ misjudgement of our abilities. Yeah that's right, I said our. Don't let it go to your head. I'm still better than you'll ever be. However, it bothers me that people have this crazy, unrealistic ideal of my bending. I'm only human. Sure an amazing human, but a human just the same. So next time you have the urge to describe me in a demi-god-like fashion, think twice. All your undue praise might get my proverbial panties in a twist sometimes, but it bothers me even more, a lot more, that people don't give him enough credit where credit is due. I'm sick of hearing I'm incredible and talented and he has to struggle for everything. Okay, he might have to struggle, but half of you idiots don't realize that it's the struggle that makes him so much more amazing. How can someone who has their abilities and talents handed to them without even trying hold a candle to someone who has had to strive through sweat, blood, and tears for them? Besides, our strength is closer in measure than any of you might think... Look, all I'm saying is give him some appreciation. Not to his face, though.

What else is there to say? I don't really feel like delving in to anything too personal. I mean, what? Do you really want the nitty-gritty? Are you expecting me to tell you who wears the pants or who's dominant in bed? His favorite position, maybe? The answer might surprise you. Or maybe not. It's besides the point, anyway. Tell you what, I'll leave you with one final piece of advice.

Next time you see us together, bear in mind that everything you knew about us is bullshit. So show some respect. Unless of course you want a rock so far up your ass it'll be breaking your teeth from inside of your mouth. But, hey maybe that's your thing. What do I know?

* * *

I had fun writing this one :)

I'm sure it's very obvious by now who this is about and who's speaking.

If your eyes have reached this point, thank you for reading. It would make it all the better if you left a review too. But hey, what do I know :p


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